


To Hurt and to Harbor

by Timeskipped



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, Feelings Realization, M/M, Mentioned Child Neglect, Minor Injuries, juban isn't the focus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29972076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timeskipped/pseuds/Timeskipped
Summary: Banri came to Mankai searching for something. He's not running anymore. Not from his sister, at least.(“Acting’s pretty fun, honestly. I like it. It’s not at all like fighting was, alright?” His sister hadn’t exactly liked the fighting, but he doesn’t really know how she saw it. He almost wants to ask. He nearly wants to ask if she noticed even after he started winning, when he stopped being injured. Even when it was boring.)
Relationships: Hyoudou Juuza/Settsu Banri, Settsu Banri & Settsu Banri's Sister
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	To Hurt and to Harbor

Banri didn’t lose his fights. He got hit, but he didn’t stay down. He was too _good_ to stay down.

The first time he was punched, he could barely pay attention to his surroundings. All he knew was that some other kids were looking for a fight, to look _cool_ or something, and there was a large patch of grass where they tended to hang out and talk loudly about how they’d beat up anyone who got close.

So Banri, hands hanging awkwardly at his sides, ready to ball them up into fists whenever he needed, approached them with a cocky grin.

The grass was cool under his fingers, and his face hurt, pain bursting over his skin. The rain from yesterday left the grass slightly damp, and his fist must’ve been dirty as he fought back. As he proved, once and for all, that Banri Settsu was better than them.

Searching for a thrill.

Seeking passion.

Anything.

But those kids had nothing for him. He walked home with a split lip and no other injuries. He hadn’t even cried. No spark of passion was lit within him afterwards, because he’d _won_ , hadn’t he? He hadn’t succeeded at finding anything.

His sister had taken one look at him and her eyes bugged out. Her hand was firm on his wrist, even as he struggled to not be taken with her.

She looked up how to treat a split lip on her phone, in the clean white bathroom they probably weren’t supposed to get blood on, and the dirt remaining on Banri’s hand was wiped onto the counter too when he hopped up to sit there, while she squinted at her screen.

“You should be more careful,” she said, in that tone that meant she didn’t want to tell their parents about it.

“I know. Stop telling me that. I _know."_

And that was that. Banri’s sister didn’t have anything to say in response, biting her lip and nothing more. She simply fixed up his own lip in a methodical style, too cold for comfort. He wanted away from her, because his skin was crawling and he was supposed to have found something, not given her another problem to deal with.

Not that he cared about how his sister did things. She was starting to spend more and more time outside the house, and it left an empty hollow that Banri had to fight the urge to fill, because he already had the emptiness ever-present in his chest to deal with.

* * *

The next time he came home with a minor injury, he pretended it didn’t exist when he was at school, and then locked himself away at home, wiping stinging disinfectant onto his skin. Banri hoped, maybe, that his sister would leave him alone. That he’d be able to search for meaning without her interfering. Alone.

Banri desperately wanted her to point out the bandage on the wound. She didn’t.

* * *

Banri goes home for his things when it’s already dark. When he’d left Mankai’s dorms, the sun was still staining the cloudy sky with light yellows and dark blues, but now it’s completely black, and the autumn night’s chill is setting in.

He pauses outside the door. He’s already taken most of his things back to the dorms, so this shouldn’t be an issue. Just… getting the last of it. The things he’d realized belatedly that he still wanted.

His house feels distant, even as he walks up the steps.

His parents had signed the dorm permission slip with boredom dragging down their expressions.

Happy to get him out of their hair, maybe? He doubts they’ll care about his _acting_. He won’t even give them a ticket. It would end up wasted, all _oh, we’d come, but there are other things…_ With whatever excuse they’ll have to give him, prepared and ready.

His key clicks in the lock. He feels separate from his body, like he wasn’t the one who chose to take out the key and enter the house.

As he steps in and removes his shoes, there’s a noise from further inside. Banri clenches his teeth, and the numbness dragging down his limbs vanishes. He hadn’t thought anyone would be home.

“Banri?” his sister says when he steps within view. She’s using the microwave in the kitchen, and whatever’s in there is still spinning, spinning, spinning. She looks the same as she had the last time he saw her, several months before. “Why are you back?”

“Why are _you_ still here?” he counters. “You were only supposed to drop by when I left here, then go back to your home.” The words feel bitter, restless on his tongue as his chest constricts.

She shrugs. He watches her ponytail swing.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re a bit of a problem child. I figured I’d come back around occasionally in case something bad happened. My husband’s not worried, by the way,” she points at him accusingly, as if he’d really mention her husband. “I know our parents are distant sometimes, so I explained it properly, ‘kay?”

Banri rolls his eyes. _"Problem child,_ oh my god, Nee-chan. Just say you don’t trust me in the dorms.” She _had_ said she didn’t believe someone like him could live there, when he left.

Something warm and uncomfortable grows in his chest at the thought that she’s waiting for him, though. That she’s concerned that their parents aren’t enough. He hates when she cares for him, when she pretends that she didn’t run away. When she’s buying him things, it’s supposed to be love, isn’t it? But their parents buy stuff for them, too, and they’re the ones who forgot that Banri wants to be important to them.

_Fuck._ This is too much. Why’d he have to drop by on a day when she’s visiting, again? Why couldn’t she have just texted him or something instead of this elaborate shit?

He ignores the thought that he’d just brush off any concern she’d show him over text and call.

Whatever. He shoves his hands in his pockets.

“I trust you well enough to not bug you about it,” she says, leaning one hip against the counter. “But you shouldn’t have had to leave home like that. I trust it’s been a good experience, though? You didn’t get into any fights with your dormmates, did you?”

Banri remembers shoving Juza to the ground. He remembers raising his fist towards him. He remembers pulling handcuffs this way and that. He remembers kicking Juza in the shins.

“No,” he says. “It’s all good.”

She looks at him like she doesn’t believe him, and he doesn’t really care. He’s sure that he’s showing his absolute smuggest face to her, and, really, what did she expect from a _problem child?_

“I’m going to go get what I came here for,” he says, then pauses. “What’s in the microwave?”

“None of your business,” she says, as the annoyingly loud beeping starts. “I’m not going to ask what you came back here for if you won’t ask what I’m eating.” Leftovers, definitely. Banri sticks around just long enough to see her pull out the takeout container, and sniggers to himself as he goes to his room. So much for her trying to keep it a secret.

He _does_ wonder if she’s really eating takeout at their parent’s house. Really? Of all the foods?

She probably brought it herself. Maybe their parents didn’t want to cook, or maybe she wanted to keep her distance from them. Either way, it spells out an uncomfortable distance between them.

When he gets back to the kitchen, after digging through his room for way too long because, god, he’s already forgotten where some of his things are even if he does want them back, she’s already put it away, so there’s nothing to distract either of them from the awkward silence between them.

Banri swings his bag in his hand. It reminds him vaguely of something Taichi did, the last time they were shopping together, nearly making the groceries go everywhere.

“You _are_ okay, right?” she asks. “Not… just running away for the sake of it?”

The unspoken _are you running away again_ is heavy and solid, like the lump in Banri’s throat. He wonders if she knows that he wasn’t running to Mankai. He was _searching_.

“Yeah,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “Acting’s pretty fun, honestly. I like it. It’s not at all like fighting was, alright?” His sister hadn’t exactly liked the fighting, but he doesn’t really know how she saw it. He almost wants to ask. He nearly wants to ask if she noticed even after he started winning, when he stopped being injured. Even when it was boring. “You do remember how I got into fights, right?”

“Yeah,” she looks to the floor. Fidgets with the ends of her hair, pulling gently on the ponytail. “Sorry. I should’ve done something.”

“Done _what?_ " He can’t help the bitterness seeping into his voice. “What could you have done, really? I got into fights and shit, and you stayed out of it. That’s just how it was.”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t swear.”

“Yeah, uhuh,” Banri smirks defiantly, dismissively. It’s the normal distance, the dancing around everything both of them want to say. _Don’t swear_ , who does she think she’s talking to? Banri has never held his tongue around her, except when it came to asking why she left. He couldn’t ask it then, and he can’t ask it now, not when he’s also leaving.

She bites the inside of her cheek. He wonders if he can try to be closer to her, now that they’ve both left home. He wonders if he even knows how to try, even with all the time he’s spent with Mankai; maybe love just isn’t built into his body.

“You can come to our play, if you’d like,” is what comes out of his mouth, finally. Then he crosses his arms. “But you _don’t_ get to come backstage or anything. None of the others are having their families come. Just go home afterwards.”

“Will you at least buy me a ticket? Sister’s privilege?” She clasps her hands as if that would make him budge.

“Hell no.”

“Alright,” she lets her hands fall to her sides. “Then where do I buy tickets? I won’t make a big deal about it if you won’t, but I’d like to at least see the fruits of my brother’s labour.” She seems actually interested, though. Banri’s never let her come to anything he’s done, because it was all meaningless, boring.

“One sec,” he says, “I think I have a flyer here,” and begins unzipping pockets on his bag.

He thinks there has to be one there. Somewhere, in his things, with a picture of him and Juza, perfectly costumed by Yuki and photographed by Omi and edited by Kazunari, their creative magic going towards making them look the part of cool and effortless gangsters. He’s been finding more and more spare fliers, extras they were supposed to take _just in case_. His fingers find paper, and he slips it out, making sure not to rip it.

She takes the flyer in her hand when he holds it out. Stares at it, and then smiles minutely.

He swings the bag over his shoulder, forcing himself to relax. This might be the last time he sees his sister in person in a while, even with her usual text-spamming. He turns towards her as he’s about to leave, but can’t find the words to speak. He wants to say something normal, for them, but he’s not sure what that would be.

Instead, it’s her who speaks first, looking up from the flier and smiling. “Are the people at your company good people?” she asks, hand on her hip.

Banri grins. He’s already bonded with Juza, of all the people there. If he can find a way to get along with that bastard, there’s nobody in the company he won’t be able to become friends with. Yeah. They’re good people.

“The best people I’ve met in a while,” he responds, and waves as he leaves.

* * *

When Banri first met Juza, he had no idea he’d come to think of Juza as _one of the best people he knows._

Juza had punched him, and for the first time since his first fight, he had fallen down from the blow. Unlike the first time, Banri couldn’t get up. He could only feel the scrapes under his hands, the frustration and life boiling in his gut, overflowing into anger and excitement.

Banri still had a light, yellow-green bruise still fading on his stomach over a week after their fight. This time, it was easy to pretend it didn’t exist, under his clothes, under the layers that kept his heart steady, because every time he was reminded of the bruise his heart would beat faster and faster again.

Banri was going to find Juza, he told himself.

Finding Juza Hyodo and winning would give him something, something that his family couldn’t give him. Finding Juza Hyodo would give him a _purpose_.

* * *

Juza is in the kitchen past midnight.

It’s not sweets, this time, not like the last time Banri heard Juza get up and leave in the middle of the night, waking Banri in the process; there’s no sweet smell, no sugar on the counters, nothing like that.

He comes to find Juza because last time, when he smirked about secret sweets, Juza had roped him into making it with him.

His fingers had touched Banri’s hands gently, reaching over to make sure he was adding the right ingredient—which Banri _had been_ , obviously. Banri doesn’t think they’ll get another moment like that while they’re in the daylight. So Banri follows him now, too, for a reason he doesn’t understand and doesn’t want to.

The Juza of right now isn’t doing anything special in the kitchen. He’s pulling some cake from the fridge, leftovers from the last birthday they had, which everyone agreed Juza should get.

“Why’re you eating that so late?” Banri says to announce his presence, and Juza looks up at him with deer-in-the-headlights eyes. Banri leans his hip against the counter, waiting for Juza to move for a long moment.

Juza’s fork is halfway to his mouth.

“Stop gaping,” Banri sighs. “Just… wondering why you’re up. You usually sleep like a log, so when you woke me up by moving around, I knew you had to be up for a reason.”

Juza’s eyes drop to his plate. His lips press into a thin line. “‘S nothing. Sorry.”

Banri pushes himself off the counter and stands closer to Juza. He’d be a brat and steal Juza’s cake, but he thought it was sweet already when it was daytime, and he’s not exactly in the mood for his taste buds to be overloaded with sugar this late. Banri resigns himself to staring at it pointedly as if he _would_ steal it.

Juza, predictably, turns away, shielding the slice with his body, and Banri bursts out laughing.

“It’s not nothing,” he says when he’s done laughing at Juza’s insistence that Banri could not touch the sugary treat. “Something’s got you up late, and as your leader—” Banri always hates using the leader excuse, but it’s easiest. Always easier than admitting something else. “—I need to help you.”

“I’m not gonna drag down the troupe,” Juza huffs out, glaring at Banri. “I’d never do anything like that.”

Banri knows that much. He clicks his tongue. He isn’t getting anywhere like this.

If he really wanted to, he could ask for an answer, tell Juza that it’s not really that he’s worried about him that he came down—he _hadn’t_ been worried, at least at first, but now he can’t help but want Juza to say something more.

“You said your mom makes desserts for you?” he changes the subject.

This seems to remind Juza that he has a perfectly good cake in his hands, and he picks it up to eat again. “Yeah,” he mumbles before taking the bite. “She’s good at it. Not that I’d ever give any to _you_.”

“I wasn’t expecting anything,” Banri glowers.

Juza pauses. There’s a distant look on his face as he eats more of the cake. Banri feels weird just standing near him, so he kicks his feet. Juza follows the movement with his eyes, and suddenly there’s an awkward tension hanging in the air.

“...Did you ever get sweets made for you?” Juza asks, finally. It enters the conversation clumsily, as if Juza isn’t sure he should say something like that. But it’s past midnight, so Banri will allow it.

Banri shrugs. “Nah. My sister got me to run to the store for her to get her that kinda stuff sometimes, but that was when I was small.” _Smaller,_ he mentally corrects. Before his delinquency really set in. Maybe even after it had, in moments when she chose to be forceful with him and pretend he hadn’t become a thrillseeker.

“Your… sister? You never mention her.”

“My sister,” Banri repeats, scoffing. “She’s married, ‘course, but that doesn’t stop her from being overly involved. We call sometimes, and when I go back home she’s sometimes there being overbearing, but I’ve forbidden her from the dorms. And neither of us live at home now, so it’s not like I have many opportunities even when I _do_ go back there.”

“Oh.” Juza looks away. “Sounds hard. Sorry.”

Something about his questioning hesitance is starting to get on Banri’s _nerves_. “Don’t apologize,” Banri snaps. “It’s not like anything is _wrong_. What the fuck is up with you?”

Juza’s eyebrows squeeze together, and Banri watches his lip curl. He wonders if Juza is going to fight him, or if he’s just going to keep holding his fork in a vice grip, staring at Banri. “Nothing.”

Banri can’t believe that answer, though. His fingernails bite into his palms. It feels as if Juza is staring into him, asking too many questions. He never should’ve followed him down here. He should’ve gone back to bed. He shouldn’t have held out hope that Juza would—would _what?_ Grin at him like it’s after a show, breathless from the action? Touch him on the hand in that way that’s become more and more commonplace, without fists or bruises?

When did Banri even start wanting that?

“I was just,” Juza’s jaw clenches, and Banri watches the muscle move, “thinkin’ about how even though their families don’t meet ‘em backstage, usually the rest of our troupe actually _talk_ about ‘em.”

Banri’s chest hurts. “So what? Is me not talking about my sister so fucking strange?”

The words are barely out of his mouth before it hits him square in the chest that of _course_ it’s strange to Juza. He’s around Kumon all the time, and he takes care of Muku, too, and it’s _nothing_ like Banri and his sister, and his parents who didn’t even question when he stopped going to school.

Guilt and rage and despair bubble together until he can’t even think about what he’s actually feeling, just knows he wants it to _stop_. Trying to let his sister in wasn’t enough, he still knows that something about them is _wrong_.

“Was just concerned,” Juza says, and puts the half-eaten cake down on the counter. “It’s not a big deal if you don’t wanna talk about it.”

But Banri knows that Juza isn’t telling the truth; of _course_ it’s a big deal to him. This is what caused Juza to come down here in the middle of the night to distract himself. Was he _really_ thinking about Banri’s problems while fucking falling asleep? God, _fuck_ him for acting like he cares.

“Fuck, what the hell do you think you’re doing, being concerned about me, when you should be concerned about _your own_ problems. Just stop pretending—”

“I’m not pretendin’ _anything_ ,” Juza snaps back, voice rising.

They both freeze. It’s late, and who knows who could hear them if they yell at each other now. At the very least, Sakyo will give them an earful, and at worst they’ll get more work to do, or be forced to do street acts with each other all weekend, or they’ll have to clean the dishes for the whole dorm for an entire _week_.

Nothing happens. No footsteps are heard stomping towards them, no voices calling their names.

They let out a sigh of relief at the same time.

It feels weird, like all the tension has drained out of the air, and all Banri can do is listen to his own heartbeat in his ears and know that this kind of stopping their fight and staring at each other, waiting for the storm to pass, could only happen at a place like this.

A place like home. Because if anyone was going to ask about Banri’s family, it might as well be Juza, that nosy bastard.

Banri sighs, and Juza eyes him warily. “Look, my parents haven’t come to any of our shows. That’s it. They’re not exactly theater people.” Not that they ever really cared too much about theater in any way, except to call his sister over to check on him when he left home. But theater was never about running away; it’s not even about looking for something anymore.

Now, he thinks, it’s more about _staying_ fired up. He’s already found excitement and passion here, so now he has to be able to take the punches and keep going, until his role is perfectly shaped into the character he wants it to be. To keep trying, to keep finding everything he loves about the stage. Theater is _everything_ to him, and _nothing_ to his parents.

“...And your sister?” Juza’s lips are pressed together when he finishes speaking.

“Eh,” Banri waves his hand. “She’s annoying when we text, and like I said, she doesn’t live at home. Still drops by, though.” He rolls his eyes. He hopes his sister can feel his disdain from wherever she is.

“Oh. Does she come to our plays?”

Banri knows she has. But he doesn’t understand why Juza is so insistent on _asking_. Why is it so hard to believe that Juza would be concerned for him? That _any_ of Mankai would want his relationship with his parents to be better than it is?

There’s a tightness in his chest that wasn’t there before. “Yeah. Are you going to eat that, or what?” he gestures toward the cake still sitting on the counter.

Juza complies with his unspoken command, and starts eating again.

Banri doesn’t offer up any more details about his family. He doesn’t think he needs to, and he doubts Juza will care. Juza doesn’t need to know about anything other than that. It’s not like Juza can change anything, but his concern for Banri is sticking in Banri’s mind as he awkwardly stands there while Juza finishes what he came down for.

The thought sits inside him, warming him. Juza is concerned about him. Juza was willing to yell at him to make sure he knew that it was genuine.

Juza gives Banri everything.

The realization makes him swallow, forcing his face not to change. Banri has always been fired up by Juza, but this—it’s different, it’s warm, it aches in the same way Banri has always ached for something like love.

When Juza slips his plate and fork in with the rest of the dirty dishes, he glances back at Banri. “Settsu,” he says, and then hesitates as if whatever he wants to say will start another meaningless fight. He turns to face Banri, concern on his face.

“What?” Banri asks, because he needs to know.

And maybe it’s just because it’s after midnight, and because Banri matters to Juza, and because Juza’s expression is strong, his eyes burning into his with the kind of intensity that makes Banri feel alive, but he still thinks that it’s strange how softly Juza says, “Thanks for being here.”

“No need to thank me,” Banri replies, smirking. “I’m your leader, ‘course I’m here.”

It’s more than that, and they both know it. They know that it started with fists and black-blue bruises that Banri never talked about to his family, because he was so used to _winning_ , from the very start. And he’ll keep winning in a different way, now, wanting to stay with Mankai.

Wanting to stay with Juza. Not just for now, but maybe forever, too.

“Let’s go back to bed before Sakyo catches us,” Banri says, and Juza’s face breaks into a half-smile.

* * *

Banri had once wanted to find a purpose and a home.

Now, he sends his sister a text with a photo of the Autumn Troupe, crowded in one frame, one where he can still feel Juza’s elbow digging into his ribs when he remembers the moment it was taken, and captions it, _Home sweet home. Better than your place, I bet._

_Are you really going to test me?_ she sends back, with a date photo with her husband, showing off their wedding rings.

_Fuck yeah I will. Prepare yourself, Nee-chan._

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve wanted to write a fic with Banri’s sister in it for a while now, and I finally did it! This was my first time writing for Juban, too, so I hope it was in character ;w;
> 
> Thank you for reading!!!


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